


On Shaking Legs, My Fawn

by snarry_splitpea



Series: Onward, My Fawn [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Begging, Choking, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Crying, Frottage, M/M, Premature Ejaculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8746939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarry_splitpea/pseuds/snarry_splitpea
Summary: Percival Graves wonders if he should feel guilty that he's addicted to Credence's pleasure





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/gifts).



He'd met the boy long before Grindelwald sent him.  Had, in fact, been approached by the revolutionary wizard because of his connection to Credence.  The more powerful wizard had given Percival a knowing look as he made the assignment.    
  
Stay in the boy's good graces.  Get the information I seek.

Percival's cheeks reddening at said 'good graces' belied his stoic expression.  Grindelwald knew.  Seemed to approve. Would this be his world, someday? One where he could steal Credence Barebone away from his life's pain without Congress breathing down his neck about muddying up the lives of no-majs?

He cringed at himself for thinking of the boy as some war trophy.  Credence was so much more to Percival than a thing to be possessed.

And yet...

* * *

 

Percival Graves had stormed into the Barebone residence, months ago.  There to clean Tina's mess, as always.  He'd dug through each mind, present.  His fingers skin to skin with magically petrified bodies to make the legilimency easier.  Dug through memories and excised Tina's presence from their minds.  In the young woman and the small girl, he found memories of Tina haloed by surprise and gratitude.  He plucked the thoughts from soft beds and the absence healed quickly.  Clean incisions with no trauma to their minds.

In the mother, hatred and fear coiled around the memory.  Making it impossible to simply pry out. Percival scraped out as much as he could, leaving raw gouges and rough edges in the spot it had been.  He knew, for all his efforts, the magic would leave a scar, but with so many brambles trying to make a grudge of the moment, that was the best he could do.

The woman would forever suffer nightmares bearing Tina's face.

And the young man had just been a tough nut to crack, overall. At first, the only thing he could find in the darkness was a name.  Credence. He'd already known it from the paperwork he'd filled out before coming to do the job.  Yet, it was odd to find it floating there, alone.  Like an introduction.

After that, Percival didn't dip into this mind so much as fall.  A frightening descent that felt slow and endless like drowning.  Lightning and black ichor filling most of Credence's mind like a choking fog.  To the best of his ability, he dodged this overabundance of traumatic memories.  Knowing he'd be harmed if sucked into them.  Flashes of angry words and painful touches pierced through Percival and he fought hard to swim away.  

Where he'd walked through other minds, he couldn't seem to find his footing, here.  The Barebone boy had a life of pain and suffering with little to no reprieve. The cruelty of children at an orphanage. The dismissal of adults in the street.  Percival could feel his own soul quivering under the onslaught.  His own mind rejecting their connection.  His fingers wanting to pull away from their perch on Credence's temple.  But he was a stronger wizard than most and ignored his body's revulsion at the state of Credence's mind.  

He pressed on, picking up Credence's body from the floor to hold him in his arms as he kneeled beside him like a knight to a fallen king.  Percival pressed his palm flat against the boy's forehead for more contact.  A stronger connection.  He needed to find the memory of Tina and extract it.  Anull the risks she'd carelessly taken and return the Barebone household to normal.

Except...

When Percival Graves finally found the memory of Tina bursting into the front door and saving Credence from his mother's wicked hand, he also found peace.  The only peace he'd seen in Credence's mind.  It would have been enough to make him sob had he been fully conscious and inhabiting his own body.  Not that he was the sentimental type. He was just so relieved.  His body's reaction to the tension and release had still been visceral.  Though the sensation felt far away, Graves could feel his cock thrumming with the aftershocks of an orgasm.

Percival Graves sat with an arm around Credence's shoulders and a hand to his forehead for a long time.  Watching and rewatching the memory of Tina's loving hug until he was drunk on the reassurance.  He breathed in her supportive words and finally shook off the sensation of drowning.  His mind healing through Credence's solace and comfort.  His fingers warming at Credence's gratitude and affection toward Tina. If he felt, after simply witnessing Credence's pain, like a starving man finally allowed food... he could only imagine what this memory meant to Credence.

He couldn't take that from the boy.

So, Percival Graves, in all his infinite stupidity, allowed a non-magic boy living in a non-magic household to hold onto a memory of magic's existence.  Against all laws and common sense.

After a cleaning spell on his own clothing, he threw a silencing ward around their embracing bodies and canceled Credence's petrification.  Fully expecting Credence to scuttle away from him, he held the boy's shoulders a little tighter.  Took his other hand off the boy's forehead to put his full body into holding the boy down.  Opened his lips to ask Credence to stay silent.

With his freedom, Credence only snuggled deeper into Percival's embrace.  Nuzzled against the man's chest.  Tilted his head up so that his forehead was against the bare skin of Percival's neck.

Like he'd done with Tina.

"Hello, Credence," Percival cleared is throat.  "You and I need to talk about a few things before I leave."

He felt Credence nod against him.  Percival then explained that he and Tina could end up hurt, very badly, if Credence ever shared their secrets.  That he and Tina would protect him as much as they could, but couldn't visit, again.  That his mother may continue to hurt him, but Credence could always come to him... not Tina, for healing.  Why he'd immediately booted her from the equation, he didn't know.  If this was only about protecting the boy, he should have teamed up with her. She was, after all, eager.

There was some part of Percival that wanted this for himself.  Wanted Tina to stay far away from the no-majs and their problems. Especially since she'd dedicated so much time to going against the New Salem crowd.  The last thing he or any of his coworkers needed was Tina actively using her powers against no-majs, again.  It was hard enough to obliviate the wretched Barebone woman, the first time.  No, better it just be him.  He was levelheaded.  Understood the plight of the few serving the good of the many. As much as he wanted to comfort Credence, he could obliviate the boy with no regrets if a situation called for it.

For the moment, Percival wanted to give the boy small comforts because he couldn't save him.  He had no idea why he was, after years of watching others suffer, protecting this particular person.  Perhaps, Percival reasoned, he'd never seen anyone's suffering be so thorough.  So all-encompassing.  He shuddered at the memory of drowning in Credence's thoughts.  He wanted to give this boy something.  Anything.  A small island of respite.  A solid ship at sea.

He held Credence a little longer, fighting the urge to rock him as he'd seen Tina do in her memories.  The boy was too old for that kind of comfort.  What had the file said? A few years and twenty? Percival only thought the frail figure in his arms a boy because he'd begun to finally, after years of seeming deceptively young to no-majs, begun showing signs of aging, himself.  How would he not view someone only just past a third of his age as a child?

"I have to go, Credence," Percival said.  He didn't want to jar the shivering body.  Didn't want to interrupt him if he were crying.  Sudden movements had always meant pain for Credence.  Percival wanted to be as gentle as he knew how to be... which, sadly, wasn't much.

He felt fingers tightening in his robes.  Pulling on the heavy garment as if Credence's comparatively small body could anchor him to the floor.  A muffled cry.  Something like "why" or "no."

"Your family will wake up, soon," Percival explained. "I can't be here."

A sniffle.

"When will I see you, again?"

Percival slowly pulled on Credence's shoulders, giving himself enough space to see the tear-streaked face.  The red eyes.  The bitten lips. There was something beautiful about the boy.  Perhaps his jawline or sharp cheeks.  Maybe the symmetry of his face or milkiness of his skin.  Percival blinked and instead focused his attention on Credence's shoulder.

"I'll try to be in the neighborhood, whenever I have ti..." he paused.  A solid ship at sea. Reliable. "Tomorrow.  You'll see me, again, tomorrow, Credence."

 

* * *

 Percival Graves, so accustomed to lurking in shadows, felt exposed standing at the mouth of an alley near the Barebone home. He kept being noticed.  People in fine clothes greeted him as they rushed their way out of the slums.  People that obviously lived there greeted him with caution.  He imagined he looked like a rather dramatic detective staking out a crime scene.  Their worried faces made him feel anxious. He didn't like attention. Never had.  He wanted to back away from the bustle of the street, but didn't want to miss seeing Credence leave.  

At least he had no worries about anyone seeing him from the Barebone household. None of them had memories of his visit, except Credence.  So, he watched Modesty pass right by without giving him so much as a glance.  He watched Mary Lou standing on the stairs, beckoning to the neighborhood children.  He watched Credence appear in the doorway.  Immediately alert as if searching for something.

A smile touched the boy's face when he spotted Percival.  Then immediately faded under his mother's attention.  Graves flexed his fingers to keep from grabbing his wand. The woman passed her son an envelope and urged him off the stairs.

Knowing the woman would grow suspicious if she saw her son approach him, Percival left the alley, walking down the street in the direction he'd seen Credence pushed.  Hoping the boy knew to catch up with him when they were both out of range.

Further down the street, he glanced over his shoulder to find Credence marching dutifully behind him.  Shoulders hunched.  Head hung.  He wanted the boy to stand up straighter.  Show off how lean he was.  How elegantly made.  Graves winced at the direction of his own thoughts.

He stopped and Credence, who seemed to never look forward, bumped into him from behind.  Immediately, the boy's head snapped up and his mouth opened in a litany of stammered apologies. Graves placed a quelling hand on the boy's shoulder.  Nodded towards an alley they could step into.

"It's fine, Credence.  I'll never hurt you," Graves promised.  Knowing, in some way, it wasn't entirely true.  It would hurt Credence dearly to lose his memories of magic and yet, there was always a chance they would need to be taken away. "Are you okay?"

He'd placed an index finger to Credence's chin to get the boy to look him in the eye.  There was pain etched, there, but no more words came.

"What hurts, Credence?" Graves asked.  Wanting to know what he could heal.  Kicking himself for not checking the boy for wounds the previous night.  He'd been so eager to leave.  To walk away from what he knew was a mounting temptation to steal the boy away from his troubles.

Credence shook his head, slightly.  Backed towards a bare, brick wall in the dim light.  He'd probably never been asked about his pain, before.  Didn't know what to expect out of someone questioning him, at all.  Graves sighed.  He was doing this all wrong.  Tina would know what to do... but she'd also get them both into trouble.  The girl could never keep a secret.

"You like magic, Credence," Percival ventured to guess.  He'd felt something like awe or pleasure while in the boy's mind.  Just a hint of it.  Slowly, the man slid a wand from his robes, holding it up for Credence to see.  He stepped closer.  He couldn't risk someone walking by or looking down on them from above and seeing what was in his hand.

With his palm on the wall over Credence's head, their bodies close to touching, and their foreheads pressed together, Graves realized he could feel Credence's breath on his lips.  That a single move could change him from guarding to molesting.  He steeled himself against the urge to pull away.  ...and the urge to push forward.

"Credence, I'm going to scan you for injuries and, with your permission, I'll heal them," Percival said.  He could feel Credence tensing. "It's okay, Credence.  I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

The boy squirmed and Graves moved to back away.  To give him space.  Credence's hands lunged up.  Viper quick.  Grabbed him by his scarf to hold him in place.

"Stay," Credence said.  His head tilting up.  Lips brushing against Graves's mouth.  Graves managed to turn his head slightly to the left and Credence looked down, again.  To the wand Graves had pressed against his hip. "Sorry."

"No," Percival was trying to collect himself.  Trying not to think of how pathetic it was to grow so heated at an accidental kiss.  Not even a kiss.  Just an innocent, far too young man having no idea how much space his body truly occupied after a lifetime of trying to seem smaller. "You don't have to apologize. I'm going to scan you, now. You'll feel something like a hug as I work.  Nothing painful, I promise."

Credence nodded his consent. Then, just in case, he said, "Ok."

 The scan started at the top of Credence's head.  A soft grip around his forehead, down to his ears, over his nose, mouth. He moaned just slightly as the scanning magic tightened around his throat.  Percival paused, there.  Loosening the grip of the scan.  Asking if Credence was okay.

The boy panted. Audibly. Visibly.  His chest rising and falling quickly. Was he frightened?

"Don't stop," Credence breathed out. One of his hands let go of the scarf to touch lightly at Graves's wand hand. Pulling so the wand dug into his hip.

Percival thought the tone... erotic.  Silently reprimanded himself for, again, allowing his thoughts to deviate from where they should have been. He pushed his own hips slightly backwards.  Hoping to never allow Credence to know how his presence affected the older man. He'd never been the type to fall prey to lust, so easily.  Yet, again, he'd never seen such beauty up close.  Rarely held anyone in his arms. Decades had passed since the last time a body panted beneath him for any reason.

Graves took a deep, fortifying breath. Experimentally, he started the scan over Credence's mouth, again.  Then down to his neck.  This time a throatier cry left the smaller body.  A groan.  Then another apology.

"You don't need to apologize to me, Credence," Percival reassured him as the scan continued.

On his shoulders, there was strain from Credence's poor posture as well as old scars.  Deep set ones that might arouse suspicion if they disappeared.  Obvious lacerations from a whip or belt. Graves laid down what soothing magic he could, there.  Massaging circles into Credence's muscles.  The boy trembled under the comforting touch of magical hands kneeding him.  He stood up straighter, allowing the hands to rub the tension from his neck.  His face bumped against Grave's and, to keep his wand concealed, Graves found he couldn't move.  Kept his face bent toward the shorter man.  Allowed Credence to moan and nuzzle against his cheek and jaw.  Open lipped and gasping, Credence seemed near the throes of ecstasy.

Surely not?

Percival's scan continued.

Darts of pain where the boy's nipples lie. This was, Graves realized with a flush to his cheeks, from the skin growing taut as the two buds hardened.  It wasn't unbearably cool out but Graves foolishly chalked up the embarrassing reaction to the weather.  Unwilling to believe the most beautiful young man he'd ever encountered was squirming and -aroused- with Percival's growing erection nary an inch from his hip.

More lacerations down his back.  The massaging hands continued downward.  Credence buckled slightly forward.  His mouth hitting Grave's collarbone.  The man could feel the heat of Credence's breath through his shirt.

Again, Graves paused the scan.  Loosened his grip. Lightened the touch of the massaging hands.

"No!" Credence cried out.  One fist bunching in Grave's robes as the other pulled on his wand hand. Graves could feel scars, there.  Fresh ones.  With a flash of anger toward Credence's mother and protective heat toward Credence, he healed both bleeding palms. Credence lips quivered and his hips squirmed against the brick wall. His voice came out in a tremble. "More, please."

Graves knew.  Knew what was happening and that he'd caused it.  Knew he couldn't continue and still call himself a good man.

Not that he'd ever truly aimed for goodness or kindness in his work.  Simply fairness.  Justice.

Graves knew that the two of them huddled in an alley was not and never could be the ideal way to approach something as precious as this. He'd seen some crushes but no lovers in the boy's memories. Wanted to give Credence the respect any guardian would.  Because that's what he'd imagined he was, at least for a day.  Not a selfish man come to collect treasures he was lucky no one else had taken the time to see.

Credence, with more guile than Graves would have ever given him credit for, pulled at the robes, forcing Grave's hips against him. "More," he whispered into Percival's ear as he ground his erection into Grave's thigh. Pressed his own thigh between the other man's legs.

Graves paused with one hand still on the brick wall above them, his body still shielding Credence from view, and his wand tucked neatly alongside the boy. The tip probably somewhere in his armpit. Graves dropped all pretense of the scan.  He ground his cock against Credence's thin body.  Moaned as spindly fingers snaked under his robes to feel at his chest through his shirt.  He set the massaging hands to work against Credence's back and buttocks.  Pressed his mouth over the boy's.  Licking at him until Credence bravely stuck his tongue out.  Sucked at the offered tongue the way he wished he could suck, elsewhere.

He broke the kiss, the sensations against his lips too enthralling when his cock was so full.  So close to bursting.

"I want to make you cum, Credence," he whispered into the boy's hair as he willed his own orgasm away.  He wanted to hear the sighing.  He wanted to feel this gorgeous body shaking and falling apart underneath him. "Do you know what it is?  To cum?"

"Yes," Credence confessed with a sniffling voice.  Graves realized he was crying.  Dipping into his mind, unthinkingly, to make sure he wasn't hurting. "I want to. Want you to."

Graves felt nearly undone by the stilted words.  He was elated that, despite the boy's reluctance to speak he was somehow wanton enough to speak, at the moment.  Then again, Graves wasn't much of a talker, himself.  In his mind, he found that Credence's deep waters were something like a still lake.  Shallow and calm.  He wadded across the water, noticing the roiling clouds and lightning were distant.  Lining the horizon on all sides, but not immediately threatening to approach.  Here, he could feel Credence's pleasure washing over his ankles, sliding up his legs.  He could feel gratitude and great affection.

Taking a few more steps before he felt satisfied that the tears were simply the response of an always stressed body finally letting go, Graves whispered love into Credence's mind.  Because why not? He hadn't felt this good in his long lifetime and they were only pressed against an alley wall.  Rutting against each other like two beasts.  He could learn to love this.  Would.  ...if given the opportunity for more.

He withdrew from Credence's mind and slid his wand back into its pocket.  Felt Credence's smooth hand grip at his empty fingers.  Tugging them upward.

When he realized the boy was trying to splay his fingers around his delicate throat, he protested. "No, Credence. I could seriously hurt you, that way."

The idea thrilled him, but he'd also never done it.  Didn't know where to press or how hard.  Credence groaned beneath him.  Begged for it. "You can heal me, after. Feels good. So good, please, Mr. Graves."

"That's not how that..." but it was how it worked.  He could feel Credence's legs shaking.  The boy was close.  Wanted to be choked as he came. "Alright, dear boy."

Clenching one hand on Credence's hip and the other around his neck, Graves pressed harder against the boy's throbbing cock. Credence moaned.  Loud.  Openly wept as the pleasure crashed through him.  Thrust his narrow hips forward, his cock sliding against Graves's thick, hard thigh rapidly until he found himself blowing thick and hot into his smallclothes.

Several moments passed before Graves could feel the wetness through the fabric and then he let go of the boy's neck.  He was sure he'd gripped tight enough on the sides to bruise.  Suddenly, all of Credence's weight was on him and he immediately feared the boy had passed out.

"Credence!"

"...m fine," the boys voice was sleepy against his chest. His legs trembling and body unable to hold itself up.  Graves hooked an arm around the boy's back. Balancing him on his knee.  Still pressing his erection into the limp body, but not moving. "Want you to feel good..."

Lazy fingers grazed over Percival's cock and the man shook his head. "Don't worry about me. We can take care of this tomorrow.  Somewhere more private."

He used a spell to clean Credence's messy clothing and heal the blue bruising he saw on Credence's throat when the boy looked up at him.

"Tomorrow. Yes. Good," Credence responded, with something like hope. His arms going around Graves in a hug.

With Credence still languishing in his afterglow, Graves simply held him close.  Started the scanning magic, again, and healed old scars, bruises, cuts, broken bones that set improperly, and a current sprain that had the boy limping more often than not.  With the boy living somewhere so volatile, he could give him nothing more than a feeling of temporary comfort and ease.  No gifts.  No new clothes.  Nothing pretty and frivolous like most lovers did.

But he could give him pleasure. Hurt him in any way he asked until they were both spiraling upwards into shared orgasms and all the peace that followed.

* * *

 

He couldn't tell his coworkers.  Had no friends, honestly. Unless he counted Credence.  Which he did.

And Grindelwald knew. Told him that he was important. Confirmed that Credence was, too.

Promised him a world where he wouldn't have to dance around the puny, no-maj will of Mary Lou Barebone.

A world where Credence would be his to hold and to protect.

 


End file.
